Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes
by Bundibird
Summary: 3x10 AU. No slash. Arthur didn't tell Morgana of his plans, so nothing stopped him & Merlin from leaving with Gwen. A series of oneshots of their lives as farmers. Mixed genres. NOW: Arthur's nervous, Merlin's wise, Gwaine decorates and Gwen is beautiful.
1. The House

_**Disclaimer**_**: I own nothing you recognise. **

_**AN**_**: A mostly light-hearted take on that classic question, **_**what if**_**. What if Arthur didn't tell Morgana of his plan to leave with Gwen (and his subsequent plan to one day return and make her Queen)? Then Morgana would never have mentioned sorcery to Uther and nothing would have gotten in the way of Arthur eloping with everyone's favourite maid. **

**Just a short one to start off with. **

**.**

**Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes**

**Chapter One: The House**

**.**

"_Sometimes I dream of leaving Camelot."_

"_Really? Where would you go?"_

"_Somewhere where nobody knows me. I'd... get some land. Become a farmer."_

"_*Laughs* I can hardly see you toiling away in the fields all day."_

"_Well obviously I'd take Merlin with me; he can do all the hard work."_

"_*Giggle* I'm sure he'd love that."_

_- Arthur and Guinevere; 3x10 – Queen of Hearts_

_..._

The house was a nice, quaint little thing, in Arthur's opinion. A bit on the smallish side, but then, he was used to living in a castle.

Nice enough though.

Four separate rooms – which was pretty darn good according to Merlin – and a lovely little path leading to the front door which was lined with a pretty array of wildflowers.

He was pleased enough with the purchase. It wasn't Camelot, but it would do.

Gwen and Merlin though – they were another story entirely.

"This is – at _least_ – double the size of my old room," Merlin grinned (that being said, he hadn't _stopped_ grinning since Arthur had announced his plan to leave with Guinevere), stretching his arms out wide as he stood in the middle of his new room, utterly thrilled. "Maybe even three times the size! I'd have to measure it to be sure..."

"Arthur… are you sure?" Gwen asked uncertainly, even while she smiled warmly at Merlin's enthusiasm as the dark-haired boy continued to dart around like an excited puppy, examining anything and everything. "I mean - don't get me wrong – it's a lovely house. The nicest I've ever seen, actually. But do we really _need_ all this? I mean – it must have been expensive. Are you sure we shouldn't just make do with something smaller?"

"Guinevere," Arthur said, warmly exasperated. "It's done. Don't worry about it. And it wasn't too expensive, either, so you can stop fretting about that. We have plenty of money to be getting along with."

She hesitated, not entirely convinced.

"Besides," Arthur continued, gesturing vaguely to Merlin (who was still raving excitedly about the room, completely unaware that his audience was no longer paying attention). "I could hardly downsize now, not after Merlin's fallen in love with his room. He'd be devastated."

A grin flitted across Gwen's face as she watched Merlin, who had just discovered a built in wardrobe ("Oh, _wow_! Look! Look – it's actually _built in to the wall_! I think I might be able to - - I can! I can fit in it! Comfortably! Oh, this is the best room _ever!_").

"Yes," she agreed, still smiling as she leant against the Prince comfortably. "I suppose you're right."

...

**AN: Yeah, just a short, sweet little one to start off with. I love the mental image of Merlin running around like a kid at Christmas and Arthur and Gwen watching him like a pair of doting parents. And, though I'm fairly sure that built-in-wardrobes were probably not around in Medieval times, I'm gonna say that the guy who built this house was ahead of his time and leave it at that. Because BIWs are awesome, and I want one. **

**I thought the idea of Arthur, Gwen and Merlin living on a farm together was just too adorable, and this begged to be written. It will contain decent traces of Gwen/Arthur, as well as a good solid helping of Arthur-Merlin bromance. Frankly, the bromance is likely to end up being the more focussed-on relationship here. **

**This will be a series of individual oneshots – snapshots, if you will – of what their life might have been like if Arthur hadn't told Morgana that he would leave with Gwen and one day return to claim the throne. And of course Merlin would come, because he'd hardly let Arthur go off by himself (and besides, like Arthur said – he'll need Merlin for all the hard work). **

**I'll post new chapters as they occur to me. Future chapters will likely be longer, and will likely include (not necessarily in this order): Gwaine coming for a visit, Arthur cooking (properly this time), and anything else I can come up with. Feel free to drop in suggestions. **

**_Up next: "That's the last bloody time I listen to anything you suggest, Merlin." Merlin and Arthur spend the day toiling away in the fields. Arthur's unimpressed_. **


	2. The Fields

**Chapter Summary: "That's the last bloody time I listen to anything you suggest, Merlin." Merlin and Arthur spend the day toiling away in the fields. Arthur's unimpressed.**

**.**

**Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes**

**Chapter Two: The Fields**

**.**

"_Mer_lin, this is the most exhausting thing I've ever _done_," Arthur whined, throwing his… uh… oh, who cares what the blasted thing was called? Throwing his farmer-style-ground-digging-tool to the ground and collapsing onto a sod of earth soon after.

"Honestly – it's only half way through the morning; I don't think I've ever _been_ this tired," he went on, attempting to scrub some dirt off his face and succeeding only in adding more. "And _I've_ trained the _knights_!"

"Yeah, well, this is what farming is all about," Merlin replied, huffing a little as he shook his fork (farmer-style-ground-digging-tool) free of the loose dirt and got ready to plunge it down again. The oxen were waiting to be attached to the plough, but the ground was hard enough that Arthur and Merlin needed to go through with the forks first to loosen the hard-packed dirt, otherwise they would just end up with a mess of earth and no neatly ploughed lines and they'd have to start over.

Well, all that was according to Merlin at least, but Arthur wasn't sure how much he should trust the dark-haired boy's instruction on this.

"And just remind me – how is it that you know so much about farming?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, exasperated. "For the fiftieth time – I grew up in a small village, you twit. _Everyone_ farmed."

Arthur huffed. "Well, you neglected to mention how exhausting it was."

Merlin rolled his eyes again and turned his back on the prince, jabbing at the ground with his fork to shake the loose earth free and continue churning.

"Well, at least now you'll have more of an appreciation for your food, now that you know how much hard work goes into growing it."

There was no verbal response from the blonde; instead, Merlin heard a huffing sigh followed by a soft flumping noise, and he turned to see Arthur flopped bonelessly on the ground, arms flung out to the sides and eyes closed.

"Arthur, these fields aren't going to plough themselves," Merlin said, exasperated. "Get up."

"No," Arthur replied childishly, not even opening his eyes.

Merlin levelled a stern frown at him. "You know what Gwen said – you can't call yourself a farmer if you're not actually going to _farm_."

"Well, then, I won't be a farmer," Arthur said cheerfully, grinning at his wit and still not looking up.

Merlin glared at him exasperatedly. "Well what _will_ you be then, because you need to be _something_ and you can't be an eloped Prince living with his not-yet-wife and his once manservant."

Arthur cracked open an eye and glared. "_Once_ manservant?"

Merlin grinned. "Of course. I just said you can't be a Prince, didn't I? Well, people who aren't Princes don't have manservants."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, trying to work out how serious he was.

"Merlin, go and get me a drink," he said, testing the waters.

Merlin grinned cheerfully, leaning on the handle of his fork.

"No," he said simply, and Arthur scowled at him.

"Whatever," the Prince said, dropping his head back down and closing his eyes again. "Didn't actually want a drink anyway."

"Right," Merlin snorted, he himself thinking wistfully of a nice cold glass of water or a lovely juicy apple. "Well, if you're so well hydrated, then you've no excuse to be lying about. Up."

Arthur opened his eyes again, a vaguely incredulous expression on his face.

"That sounds suspiciously like an order," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"Well done!" Merlin praised enthusiastically, turning back to his dirt-turning. "You can give them as well as pick them. Now all that remains to be seen is if you can _take_ them."

Arthur blinked at Merlin's back.

"You... you can't order me about, Merlin!" he said, half laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

"See – I can, actually," Merlin said, enjoying himself far too much and keeping his back to Arthur so that his grin would go unseen. "You have no idea what you're doing here – I'm the one who knows how to farm. So if you want this whole farmer lark to work out for you, you've got to do as I say. _I'm_ the expert here."

Arthur stared at him blankly.

"Heaven help us," he said woefully.

...

A considerable while later, Merlin managed to convince Arthur to get back up and pitch in again with the sod-turning, earth-churning, back-breaking work.

He would have liked to be able to say that it was because Arthur overcame his temporary bout of childishness and decided to pitch in again, but really, it was because Merlin had said, "You know – Gwen's roasting a chicken for dinner tonight. I'm sure if I tell her how _hard_ I had to work, she'll give me first call on the wings. Guess I get both of them tonight."

Now, Merlin knew how much Arthur loved the wings – especially the way Gwen did them – but even he was surprised by how quickly the blonde man was on his feet, fork in hand and half dug into the earth.

And now the sun was setting, they'd finished loosening the dirt, they'd run the oxen down the fields (_that_ had been an interesting experience), and they'd decided to get a head start on the planting and get a few potatoes in tonight, before heading home to collapse at the dinner table.

"So, tell me again – why potatoes?" Arthur asked, stuffing one messily into a hole and covering it up again before moving down the neatly ploughed line to dig another hole.

"Because," Merlin said from the next row over, "they're hardy, so they won't fail if we get some frosty mornings; they store well, so we won't have to worry about winter; they're plentiful, so we can sell them at markets and trade them for other vegetables; and they're Gwen's favourite."

Arthur considered this for half a second, and nodded in acceptance, covering his most recently planted potato with a layer of dirt.

"I'm just glad we only have to do this once," he said, mentally groaning as he bent again to put in _another_ tuber. "I should have become a farmer years ago. Aside from this one bit, it's going to be easy."

"Ah..." Merlin said, in that tone of voice that Arthur had long since learnt meant _You're not going to like this._

"That's... not exactly how it works," the once-manservant said, a little hesitant, and Arthur frowned a little.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "We plant them, they grow, and then we dig them up and eat them. Simple."

"Yes, that's true, but there's a little more to it than that..."

Arthur straightened and glared over his shoulder, his expression a clear _Tell me, and tell me now._

"Well, we have to make sure that the dirt is always kept topped up," Merlin said in a rush, as though saying it quickly would make it less bad. "The potatoes grow near the surface, so we have to add more dirt each time the plant gets higher, through the whole season, or we'll only get six or so potatoes out of each plant, and that wouldn't be enough to both feed us and to sell."

Arthur looked incredulous, and vaguely dangerous.

"Do you mean we have to come out here every week and do this?" he demanded, gesturing wildly to their expanse of fields and bending over dramatically to mime the backbreaking work they were currently doing.

"Um..." Merlin said, and Arthur knew it was about to get worse. "Well, not every week, no. It needs to be done every three days or so and, considering how many plants we're going to have and how much time it will take us, we're... going to need to do it every day."

"_Every day!_" Arthur repeated, his voice sounding more similar to thunder than to a normal human.

"It's what a farmer does!" Merlin retorted loudly, refusing to take the blame for this when the whole bloody thing had been the Prince's idea.

"Are you telling me that every single thing we eat – every vegetable; carrots, onions – have to be _reburied_ every three days!"

"Ah... no," Merlin said, hesitant again. "Just... ah... just potatoes."

Arthur stared at Merlin for a very long moment.

"So basically," he said, "out of all the plants we could have farmed, you chose the one that was the most work."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," Merlin defended, and then quailed a little under The Look that Arthur threw at him. "Ah, yes. That is correct."

Arthur viciously pointed a dirt-encrusted finger at his best friend.

"That's the last bloody time I listen to anything you suggest, Merlin," he said crossly, then turned back to his row and buried a potato with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

...

**AN: Saturday afternoon, as promised! Poor Arthur; all his dreams of an easy farmer's life, shattered. **

**And yes, you actually do have to add more dirt to potatoes every three days or so to make sure you get the best crop out of them. I've only ever grown them in my backyard, mind, so I don't know how actual farmers go about it, but, oh – it's so worth it. Potatoes are possibly the best food on the planet.**

**On a slightly-but-not-entirely unrelated note, I have discovered cranberries. Dude. Cranberries are awesome. I've got a 500 gram pack of them that I've been munching on whilst typing, and I've actually eaten nearly half of them by myself. (*Checks shiftily for younger sister who will be cross I've left her so few*) They're a very good writing food. Stuck for the right words? Take a break – munch a cranberry. I can almost guarantee that inspiration will hit.**

**Hm. Clearly I'm hungry. *Goes hunting***

_**Up Next: "No, Merlin, we are not keeping it." Merlin and the dog looked up at Arthur with matching expressions of such woeful sadness that Gwen aww'd in sympathy and rushed forward to pet both of them on the heads. **_


	3. The Dog

**Disclaimer: I think I forgot this in the first two chapters. Oops. Well, here we go: I don't own Merlin. I also don't own a wolfhound, but I wish I did. I think my Cocker Spaniel might get jealous though. And perhaps a little... squashed.**

**AN: Because Merlin is totally the type to collect strays and bring them home. **

**Chapter Summary: "**_**No**_**, Merlin, we are not keeping it." Merlin and the dog looked up at Arthur with matching expressions of such woeful sadness that Gwen aww'd in sympathy and rushed forward to comfort them.**

**.**

**Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes**

**Chapter Three: The Dog**

**.**

The dog was huge, shaggy and dark grey, and it would have looked rather intimidating if it hadn't been rolling it's eyes happily under Merlin's petting hands as the dark-haired boy rubbed at it's shoulders.

"Where did it come from?" Arthur asked, staring as the dog made a happy groaning sound and sunk to the floor, Merlin's hands following it down and continuing to scratch and rub affectionately.

"I don't know, exactly," Merlin said, barely glancing up from the huge animal to answer Arthur, his lips quirking as the dog huffed happily. "He came up to me in the market, and then he just followed me all the way home."

"Here," Gwen said, appearing from the kitchen with a huge bowl of mixed bread and meat scraps which she put down on the ground in front of the dog. "This should help put some weight on him."

"Thanks Gwen," Merlin smiled, as the dog rolled back up onto all (very tall) fours, looked curiously into the bowl and sniffed at the contents, then began to practically inhale the food.

Gwen stepped back a little to give the dog space while it was eating – her father had taught her at an early age never to go near animals while they were eating – but either Merlin had never been taught this or he just ignored it, because he kept patting the dog absently while it ate and the dog didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"Why did it follow you?" Arthur asked, getting back to the issue at hand.

"No idea," Merlin replied, shrugging a little as he scratched the dog behind the ear while it scarfed the food. "I tried telling him to go home, in case someone was looking for him, but he just stayed right by me. Poor thing is as thin as anything; I think he's been homeless for a while."

Arthur narrowed his eyes a little suspiciously. "You didn't happen to _feed_ the 'poor thin thing,' did you? Because that would kind of guarantee that it would follow you all the way home."

"No," Merlin said honestly, reaching down to hold the bowl still as the dog nosed it across the floor in it's eagerness. "I didn't have anything to offer him – I was just picking up the apples and other vegetables, remember? No meat, no bread. He just decided he liked me."

"He's so docile," Gwen said, giggling warmly at the tall animal as it finished what was in the bowl and immediately started nosing Merlin all over, looking for more. "You wouldn't imagine such a big creature could be so gentle. What breed is he?"

"I'm pretty sure he's a wolfhound," Merlin said, half laughing as he fell over sideways and tried in vain to ward off the animal's exuberant nosing. "And fairly young, too, I think. I think I'll call him Sirius; it's a star – the brightest one – and also known as the Dog Star, which is rather fitting. Or perhaps I'll call him Arcturius – it means Bear-guard; that's a star as well. I like Tybalt and Ronin too, though. I can't decide."

"Hang on," Arthur said, holding his hands up. "No. We're not naming it. You name it, you'll get attached to it, and we're not keeping it."

Merlin looked aghast.

"What do you mean, we're not keeping him?" he demanded, looking belligerent. "Of course we're keeping him!"

"Merlin – no. Look at it. I can't believe you even brought it in the house. It's mangy and flea-bitten and we don't know anything about it. Who knows where it's been?"

"All of that can be fixed by a good bath and a brush, and decent feeding," Merlin replied, sniffing stubbornly at the Prince.

"I don't care – it's still mangy. Besides - how do we know that it won't just wait until we're all asleep before attacking us and killing us all?" Arthur demanded, and even Gwen thought this was a little far-fetched. "Then what will you think of it?"

"Well, for starters, I doubt I'll be capable of much thinking if I'm dead," Merlin replied dryly from where he was now lying on the floor and reaching up to rub the dog under it's chin. If it had been a cat, it would have been purring. "Besides. Does this look like the face of an animal that would kill you in your sleep?"

Arthur looked at the dog. It's eyes were half-closed as it tilted it's head to allow Merlin better access to his chin, and it was keeling slightly to the side as it revelled in the utter bliss of it all.

Even Arthur had to admit that he'd be surprised if _that_ attacked them in the middle of the night.

"I don't care," he said again, reverting to his usual I'm-in-charge-here-do-as-I-say method of resolving disagreements. "It's not staying."

Merlin decided to try the compassion angle.

"But Arthur – he's all alone. He's so skinny already - he'll starve if we toss him out."

"It won't," Arthur denied. "It'll just go up to the next sappy looking girl it sees and blink at them, and then they'll take it home and feed it and try to convince their family that they should adopt it."

"_Please_, Arthur?" Merlin begged, sitting up and hugging the huge dog close to him. It licked his cheek affectionately.

"_No_, Merlin, we are not keeping it."

Merlin's shoulders slumped in defeat and he and the dog looked up at Arthur with matching expressions of such woeful sadness that Gwen aww'd and rushed forwards to comfort both of them.

"Oh, Arthur, how could you turn the poor thing away?" she asked, apparently not noticing that she was petting both the dog's head _and_ Merlin's. "Just look at that _face_..."

Arthur threw her a vaguely betrayed expression. "You too? Ugh, honestly. We need more men around here, with you two being bowled over by every lost soul that drifts through."

"The dog's a male," Gwen helpfully pointed out, scrunching it's ears fondly while it made happy noises.

"That doesn't count," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"And he is big, and I've heard that wolfhounds are very loyal. It could turn out to be a good idea to keep him. Any bandit's coming through the area would think twice if they saw him standing out the front."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her.

"And I'll keep him clean," Merlin pitched in, his arms still around the dog in question while it nuzzled Gwen's hand for more attention. "And he'll sleep in my room, so you won't have to worry about him getting in the way."

"Sleep in your..." Arthur repeated, looking aghast. "Absolutely not!"

"And we've got plenty that we can feed it," Gwen added quickly, giving up and dropping to her knees so that she could better douse the dog with affection. "With the wild ducks on the lake over the hill and all our harvest that we've got to trade we won't at all be short of meats and grains."

"And wolfhounds are _excellent_ guard dogs," Merlin said. "They're placid most of the time, but if someone threatens their family..."

"I really think we should keep the dog, Arthur," Gwen said, looking at him seriously while Merlin and the wolfhound continued to silently (woefully) plead at him with their eyes.

Arthur put in a valiant effort, really.

But all three of them looking at him like that was too much for even him to handle.

"Ugh, fine!" Arthur half-yelled, glaring at the three of them. "The mutt can stay. But in a week's time when we've all got fleas and it's eaten us out of house and home, don't say I didn't tell you so."

He turned to storm out of the room in a huff, but spun back around to face them just inside the doorway. "And we are _not _calling it Arcturius. If we're going to adopt a flea-bitten stray I _will_ _not _have my name confused with it."

…

Not even a week later the wolfhound had rescued Gwen from a rogue wolf, chased a pair of thieves away from their hard-worked-for crop, and learnt how to bring all three of them their soft night-shoes when they arrived home at the end of the day.

Suffice to say, Arthur warmed up to him eventually.

…

**AN: Alright, you lot get to vote on the name, cause I can't pick. **

**What should Merlin's wolfhound be called? Sirius, Tybalt, or Ronin? **

**Arcturius is a seriously cool name for a medieval wolfhound, but like Arthur said, it's too similar to his own name (the Roman version of Arthur being Arturius, if I recall correctly?) and, while he and the dog getting called by each others names _would_ be quite fun, I'm not that mean. And I would have picked Sirius first off, because really that's quite perfect, but I know heaps of you would go 'Harry Potter!' every time the word was said, which could get slightly irksome for you. **

**So! A vote! Ronin, Sirius, or Tybalt?**

_**Up next: "Well you don't think I'm gonna be leavin, do ye?" Gwaine said, grinning roguishly. "Not when you have a spare bedroom for the taking and no king to banish me from the land."**_


	4. The Other Best Friend

**AN: I apologise for the longer-than-anticipated delay; Supernatural kinda attacked me. I couldn't think of much else, and writing Merlin when you're thinking Dean just doesn't really work. I know – I tried. I tried very hard. So this one was really quite difficult.**

**Thank you all very much for your votes! The final count was seven for Sirius, five for Ronin, and four for Tybalt. So, Sirius is the winner! If you can't stand that being the name because it just makes you think of HP all the time, just mentally replace it with Ronin, which for a while looked like it was gonna be the winner.**

**Also, this chapter is longer than usual. What can I say – Gwaine's a fun guy. That, and I had some serious fun with the rumours… **

**WARNING: There are very vague allusions to adult activities that never actually took place in this chapter. It's really **_**very**_** vague, and I don't think it's anything that might offend, but I figured I'd best warn you just in case. **

**Chapter Summary: Enter Gwaine, who relates some of the rumours he's heard and nearly makes Arthur pass out. **

**.**

**Of Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes**

**Chapter Four: The Other Best Friend**

**.**

For once, they didn't find him in a tavern.

Though, to be fair, that was only because he hadn't bothered moving from where he'd landed after being _thrown out_ of the town's tavern the night before, and so he'd spent the night asleep outside the alehouse.

As seems to most frequently be the case, it was Merlin who spotted him first, drawing to a halt so suddenly that Arthur crashed into him from behind.

"_Mer_lin, what are you – " Arthur started, irritably, but Merlin cut him off, pointing.

"Is that _Gwaine?"_ the dark-haired boy asked incredulously, and Arthur, surprised, followed his gaze and blinked.

"Is it?" he asked blankly.

How Merlin had managed to spot the man was a bit of a mystery to Arthur, because all the once-Prince could see when he first looked was a mass of straw piled into a haphazard pile next to the tavern and, if he _squinted_, he could see a single arm poking out from under all the straw and – was that some hair? Yes. The top of someone's head was just visible, half covered by dried grasses.

"It _is_!" Merlin cried, delighted, and he started bounding in that direction with Sirius sticking close to his heels (Merlin was most _definitely _the wolfhound's favourite human) before Arthur even had time to wonder how it was that Merlin had managed to recognise the scruffy scallywag of a man when he was barely visible.

Merlin drew to a halt next to the pile of straw, grinning widely down at the man sprawled inelegantly in the straw while Arthur made his way over at a more sedate pace.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, kneeling next to him and shaking his shoulder gently.

There was no response.

"Gwaine," he said, a little more insistently, and had to stifle a laugh when Gwaine snuffled contentedly, rolled over, and snuggled deeper into the straw.

Deciding it was time to call in the cavalry, Merlin said, "Sirius, say hello to Gwaine," and pointed, and Sirius cheerfully moved forward to investigate the strange human sprawled in the hay next to the tavern.

Gwaine woke groggily to something wet snuffling his face.

"Lucy, luv," he slurred, not opening his eyes. "You know I don't do the morning after."

"Firstly," said an amused voice that was _way_ too cheerful for this time of the morning, "that's not Lucy. And secondly, if that's the way you treat her then I'm glad he's _not_ 'your love'."

That sentence made little to no sense to Gwaine's poor hung-over brain, but there was one thing that stood out to him very clearly.

"Merlin?" he asked blearily, recognising the voice, cracking open one eye and coming face to face with a big black nose less than an inch away from him.

He stared at the nose for a very long time.

"You're not Merlin," he said to it eventually, and there was a laugh and then the nose moved away to be replaced by Merlin's grinning face.

"You'll never change, will you Gwaine?" the dark-haired boy laughed, very much enjoying his friend's total confusion.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shout-slurred, and launched his torso up off the hay enough so that he could enthusiastically hug the startled boy.

Merlin jumped a little in surprise as Gwaine launched suddenly at him and then he squawked inelegantly as the older man lost his balance almost immediately and fell back again, pulling Merlin down with him so that they ended up as a tangled mess of limbs half buried in the hay.

Both of them tried to get free of each other and get up, but they only succeeded in impeding each other's attempts and Arthur leant casually against the wall to watch in amusement while they attempted to sort themselves out.

Unhelpfully, Sirius thought this was all great fun and cheerfully joined in on the dogpile, and there was sheer confusion there for a few moments before Arthur decided to take pity on the lot of them, reached into the fray and hauled Merlin up by the back of his shirt and then reached down to pry Gwaine up and away from Sirius's rather exuberant greeting.

"Arthur!" Gwaine shout-slurred again once he was on his feet, and the once-Prince suddenly found himself with an armful of Gwaine.

"Ah, yes. Good to see you too, Gwaine," he said somewhat awkwardly, attempting to get free.

Turns out he needn't have worried, because just as quickly as the man had lunged forwards, Gwaine pulled back to hold the prince at arm's length, beaming and looking cheerfully from Arthur to Merlin.

"Now where the hell have you two been, eh?" he asked, clearly delighted to be seeing them again. "You know, all of Camelot's in an uproar."

Merlin, grinning, said, "Well, we were just on the way to buy this week's supplies – come with us, and we'll tell you the whole story."

"And where is the lovely Gwen?" Gwaine asked, looking around as though expecting her to pop out from behind a barrel as he slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders and they set off. "I presume she's somewhere around here with you two hooligans. I can't imagine you letting her far out of your sight, Arthur, considering that she's a proud mother now."

"Considering she's a _what?"_ Arthur yelped, drawing to a complete halt and staring at Gwaine in shock.

Gwaine looked at him like he was missing something important.

"A mother," he said, his eyebrow quirked in confusion at Arthur's outraged surprise. "You know – that's what you call a woman who has a little child running around, tugging at her skirts."

"Child?" Arthur repeated, sounding faint.

Gwaine was looking at Arthur as though he was an extremely strange individual.

"Yeah, Arthur, a child. You know – when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"Gwaine – what are you talking about?" Merlin asked, deciding it was high time he joined in on this conversation, as it was becoming apparent that Arthur was rapidly losing the power of speech. "Gwen's not a mother – she's not even expecting. Where did you hear that she was?"

"She's not a mother?" Gwaine asked, sounding surprised. "But that's why you left with her, isn't it Arthur?"

"Gwaine, _what are you talking about?"_ Arthur demanded, finding his voice for a moment and looking wide eyed and a little bit crazy.

"That's why you eloped with her, isn't it?" Gwaine elaborated. "Because you got her into a rather delicate state out of wedlock. Can't blame you for runnin, really – I wouldn't have wanted to see your father's reaction to that news either. I gotta say congrats though – is it a boy or a girl? I bet that kid's spoilt rotten already. Hopefully it takes more after Gwen in looks though. No offence, Arthur, but she's the prettier one out of the two of you. And why are you both looking at me like that?"

"Is that..." Merlin said faintly, actively closing his gaping mouth and speaking when it became clear that Arthur (eyes hugely wide and jaw hanging slack) wasn't likely to utter any sound for a good while yet. "Is that what people are saying?"

"Well, yeah," Gwaine said, then grinned. "Just because you're a royal doesn't mean your private business remains private, Arthur; would have thought you'd know that by now. 'S it really that shocking?"

"Shocking..." Merlin said dazedly. "You could say so..."

Gwaine frowned, peering at Arthur in concern.

"Is he alright?" he asked, waving a hand in front of the once-Prince's face and getting no reaction.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to ward off the image of every citizen in Camelot believing that Gwen and Arthur were the parents of an illegitimately conceived child and that they had fled in an attempt to keep it a secret. "Gwen is not a mother. She is not even expecting. So far as I am aware, there's not even any reason that… well – you know – there's no reason to even _suggest_ she might _suspect_ she might be expecting. _Wow_ this is really awkward…"

"What, you mean…" Gwaine asked, sounding rather shocked and a little bit scandalised. "Arthur, are you saying that you two haven't – "

"No!" Arthur yelped, finding his voice, outraged and decidedly embarrassed, at the same time that Merlin cried, "Gwaine, for heaven's sakes, they aren't even married!"

Gwaine frowned, then peered shrewdly at Arthur.

"I should have guessed you'd be the chivalrous, virtuous type," he said, and Merlin suspected that he wasn't imagining the disapproving tone to the older man's voice.

Arthur gaped at him for a long moment, then shook himself as though to rid his brain of their most recent conversation.

"Gwen is at the house," he said, taking a deep breath and talking with an air of forced civility. "Feel free to come with Merlin and I to get the supplies, and we will go back home afterwards. And let it be known that this conversation _never happened_."

That said, the blonde man stalked past Gwaine in the direction of the market.

"What's he so uppity-nosedy about?" Gwaine asked Merlin. "It's just s– "

"_Gwaine_!"

…

One trip to the market, a delighted Gwen and an impromptu sit-down lunch later, the four of them sat at the table in Arthur, Gwen and Merlin's house, Gwaine with his chair rocked back onto two legs and his hands comfortably behind his head as he described how he'd come to be in their little town.

"So anyway, I had to get out of there before they married me off to her. I stuffed the bed with pillows so it looked like I was still there in case she came to check on me, snuck out the back door of the inn, then took off down the road as fast as I possibly could. Didn't stop for nothin' or no one for two days, then hitched a ride on the back of some bloke's wagon. And then passing through this lovely little town last night I saw the tavern, and felt I deserved a break after such a harrowing experience. The barman wasn't of quite the same mind though, and he kicked me out after just eleven drinks. And then this morning our dear Merlin and his trusty canine friend found me, and here we are."

"Gwaine," Merlin chuckled, thoroughly amused, "you really are one of a kind."

"The poor girl though," Gwen said a trifle sadly. "Imagine how upset she must have been when she came to get you in the morning only to find you'd snuck off in the middle of the night."

Gwaine looked affronted at her sympathy for his nearly-wife.

"If she hadn't interpreted my 'Good morning' as a proposal then I wouldn't have _had_ to sneak out the back door," he defended, totally unrepentant. "Anyway; she wasn't my type. Bit of a misery-guts, she was."

"Well I can understand why," Merlin said, chuckling again, "if every fiancé she gets runs off when she's not looking. Anyway – Arthur, we'd best get out there. We've lost half the day, but we might as well get something done."

"I suppose you're right," Arthur said, looking reluctant to get back to work after such a leisurely start to the day. "Gwaine – you owe us for lunch. You can come and help."

Merlin and Gwen both huffed an unsurprised laugh at that, but Gwaine didn't seem to mind being instructed to pay back his free meal.

"And you can stay for dinner of course," Gwen added, when Gwaine nodded easily and stood up with Arthur and Merlin. "And the night too, if you wish,"

"Just the night?" Gwaine asked, smirking a little.

"Well, no, of course not," Gwen said. "As long as you like. How long did you want to stay?"

Gwaine appeared to ponder this for a moment.

"How 'bout for good?" he asked eventually, grinning roguishly and leaning his shoulder against the wall casually. He chuckled when he saw the surprise on Gwen's face. "Well you don't think I'm gonna be leavin', do ye? Not when you have a spare bedroom for the taking and no king to banish me from the land."

Merlin's face split into a huge grin. Arthur groaned loudly. Gwen hid her chuckle behind her hand.

"You want to stay?" Merlin asked, literally beaming and sounding utterly delighted. "What about your 'wherever the wind may take me' attitude?"

"Eh, I figure it's about time I stopped roamin' all over the country like some kind of vagabond," Gwaine said with an easy shrug and a grin. "And why the hell not here, eh?"

Merlin laughed in delight, and Gwaine's lips curved into a smile at Merlin's obvious joy.

"Hang on," Arthur said, the disagreement clear on his face and in his voice. "You can't just invite yourself to stay, Gwaine. What if we have other plans for that room?"

"But we don't," Merlin said, frowning in innocent bewilderment and turning to look at Arthur. "Do we? It doesn't matter anyway – even if we do, I don't mind sharing. My room is _huge_," he tacked on, turning back to Gwaine and grinning again.

Arthur sighed, very capable of spotting a battle well lost.

"Very well," he sighed, sounding decidedly unenthused. "You may have the spare room, Gwaine."

Merlin looked about ready to burst from delight, and Arthur carried on quickly, giving Gwaine his most intimidating _do-what-I-say-or-else_ glare.

"But we have rules here. You can't go getting drunk at the tavern and running up huge tabs if you're planning on staying here. We won't cover for you again."

Both Merlin and Gwaine snorted a little at the _again_ comment, because that time in Camelot really didn't count as Arthur covering for him. The Prince had made very certain that every single drop of ale was paid back in the form of polished boots and scrubbed floors.

"And you'll have to help us run the place," Arthur went on, apparently not noticing the reaction the two dark-haired males gave him. "You'll have to help me and Merlin in the fields and you'll have to help prepare the house for winter and you'll have to chop firewood and everything else we have to do here."

"Yes, Sire," Gwaine said, grinning.

Arthur glared.

"Well, let's go then," he said, sounding irritable. "If you're going to stay and help us farm it might be useful for you to learn _how._ We've got a few hours of daylight still."

Merlin was practically buzzing with excitement.

"Come on," he said, literally bouncing to the door as Sirius bounded happily around his feet, picking up on the atmosphere. "I'll show you our fields. They're going reallywell – Arthur's _really_ proud of our potatoes."

Gwaine laughed at that and followed the dark-haired boy and his dog out the door without waiting for Arthur, who waited until they were gone before he turned a baleful look on Gwen.

"You realise we have the equivalent of three children now," he said, sounding tired at just the concept of living in a house with Merlin _and_ Sirius _and_ Gwaine. They were all going to have bad influences on each other, he could see it already.

"You'd best go make sure they're not getting into any mischief, then," Gwen said, laughing as she shepherded Arthur out the door after them.

...

**AN: That... was hard to write. I hope it's ok. I liked the end, but I'm not a hundred percent pleased with it as a whole, but I figured you lot have been waiting long enough. The next chapter is already mostly written and it's flowing much easier, so if you were disappointed with this one I apologise but promise that the next one will be better. **

_**Up next: **_

"_**You are aware that magic is banned in Camelot, yes?" Arthur demanded, sounding incredulously furious.**_

"_**Um..." Merlin responded, his fingers still tingling and his eyes now back to their normal blue. "Then it's a very good thing that we're not in Camelot?"**_


	5. The Magic

_**AN**_**: Oh my gosh, I am so, **_**so**_** sorry for the massive unexpected delay – life's been beyond hectic. I won't give you excuses, but believe me when I say that this is the absolute earliest that I could possibly have gotten this up. I apologise. But it's here now, and hopefully you enjoy it enough that you forget the wait. :) **

**And thank you all so much for your reviews – if I didn't reply to you I'm sorry; internet access has been absurdly difficult to come by. I so appreciate all of your comments though – I'm thrilled you're all enjoying this so much. **

**In other news, I've changed the rating to T because of all the allusions going on last chapter. Thanks Kitty O for pointing that out! Tsk. This whole thing was G rated until Gwaine came along…**

_**Chapter Summary: "You are aware that magic is banned in Camelot, yes?" Arthur demanded. **_

"_**Um..." Merlin responded, his fingers still tingling and his eyes now back to their normal blue. "Then it's a very good thing that we're not in Camelot?"**_

…

**Farmers, and Fields Full of Potatoes**

**Chapter Four: The Magic**

…

Merlin was rather irritated to find that even when not in Camelot, Arthur seemed to attract an unfair amount of attention from nasty creatures of magical description.

It was like the once-Prince had a huge sign on his back that screamed, "Come on! Try me! I dare you!" Because really; out of an entire town of otherwise indistinguishable, dust-covered males, the creatures went for Arthur.

It was Sirius that picked the creatures' arrival first.

Merlin woke in the middle of the night to the huge hound nosing him urgently, a continuous rumbling growl issuing from his throat, and Merlin hadn't even managed to remember how to properly form the word "What" before the dog had rushed to the door, whined in a rather distressed manner, then darted back to Merlin and back to the door again.

Figuring that the animal was heeding the call of nature (it wouldn't be the first time Merlin had had to let the dog out so it could relieve itself, but the warlock wasn't complaining because the alternative was really quite messy), the dark-haired-boy rolled out of bed, staggered to the door and stumbled out of his room with Sirius close behind, and then practically sleepwalked down the stairs to the front door, practically asleep on his feet.

He woke up rather quickly, however, when he opened the front door and saw what was out there.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" he yelled in a very manly fashion, and slammed the door shut before Sirius could slip out, bracing his back against it and breathing heavily.

There were a series of noises from upstairs as his holler woke the rest of the household, followed by the sounds of three doors banging open (because Arthur and Gwen were not yet married, thank you very much, and they slept in decidedly separate rooms, despite Gwaine's loud disapproval of that notion).

Arthur bounded down the stairs not a second later, immediately followed by Gwaine (both of them shirtless and clearly only recently awake, but both looking alert and ready for action), and then by Gwen (who looked at least vaguely ready for action even if she didn't look quite alert just yet).

"What?" Arthur demanded, looking wildly about for the source of Merlin's holler of terror. "What is it?"

"It – they…" Merlin said, struggling to both make sense of what he'd seen and to find the right words to describe it. "They're stealing our potatoes!"

"_What_?" Arthur half-yelled, looking suddenly very dangerous (he'd become really rather protective of their potatoes since that first day of planting. You don't put that much effort into something and _not_ become over-protective). "Who?"

"The moths!" Merlin cried, looking wild-eyed and horrified.

Arthur and Gwaine – both of whom had been marching furiously towards the door, intent on defending their potatoes from thievery – drew up sharply.

"…Moths," Arthur repeated flatly, staring at Merlin with that expression that said _sometimes you are a serious embarrassment to me._

Merlin nodded, his eyes huge.

Readers, you are probably having a similar reaction to our dear Prince (that is, a slight scoff and a disbelieving eyeroll while marvelling at the sheer girliness of Merlin's temperament).

And normally, such a reaction would be justified.

Certainly, normal moths are nothing to be afraid of.

But there is rather a lot to be afraid of when the moths in question have a wingspan longer than your entire body, barbed antennae that look more like weapons of mass destruction than an innocent body part, and a cheerful willingness to kidnap eloped Princes and fly off with them.

But more on that later.

"Merlin," Gwaine said comfortingly. "It's alright. It was just a nightmare. You can go back to sleep and the moths won't get you."

"What?" Merlin asked, comically bewildered. "No – I wasn't dreaming – they're out there!" He gestured wildly to the door behind him that Sirius was still growling at, but the other three were already turning away.

"I'm sure they are, Merlin," Gwen said attempting to stifle a yawn as she started back up the stairs.

"What? No – they are! Gah – _look!" _

Merlin threw the door open wide and Sirius dashed out, growling fiercely, and Arthur turned around with a vaguely irritated expression, mouth open to say something doubtlessly insulting, but then he caught sight of what lay beyond the door and his eyes bugged out a little.

"Gad zukes!" he cried, then ran forwards in full My-Kingdom-Is-In-Danger mode in less than a heartbeat, grabbed up his sword from inside the door, and charged out after Sirius, hollering angrily at the giant moths that were tearing up his fields and making off with his potatoes.

Everything started to move rather quickly then.

It might be fair to rephrase the statement made earlier regarding magical creatures always going straight for Arthur.

Merlin rather likes to think that most magical creatures are pacifistic in nature, much like regular wild animals (there are exceptions, of course, but Merlin doesn't believe in judging by the minority).

However, even if you came across the most gentle, anti-confrontational bear in existence and sent a sword-wielding, hollering human at it, it would probably give up its pacifistic attitude rather quickly in preference for self-preservation.

So perhaps the moths were a little bit justified in their actions.

Still. They were hardly endearing themselves to Merlin.

First the blasted giant insects wake them in the middle of the night, raid their fields, and steal their hard-worked-for-crop. Then, faced with an irate Prince rushing out to defend his livelihood, they abandon their callous thievery and swarm towards Arthur, engulfing him in entirely in a mass of fluttering wings.

For a few moments in that little farmer's-property a day's ride in from Goodwyn's border, sheer pandemonium reigned.

Merlin, Gwaine and Gwen – who had been standing frozen just inside the door in various states of surprise, shock and horror – all hollered furiously at the sight of the moths converging on Arthur, and they all rushed out immediately to rescue their destiny/friend/love (in that order).

Well… Gwen's was more of an outraged shriek of fury than a manly holler, but it still would have sounded terrifying to whoever it was directed at. And Gwaine even remembered to grab his sword as he charged out the door, which was more than could be said for Merlin.

Meanwhile, Sirius – who was far closer than any of the others and who had managed to catch a moth and was keeping it pinned to the ground with his huge paws – heard Arthur's startled yelp as the fleet (flock? Herd? Contingent?) of moths descended upon him, and the giant hound let out a fearsome snarl and charged towards them, his captured moth forgotten entirely as he plunged fearlessly into the crush of wings and furry bodies and spiked antennae.

The dog had only been out of sight for a few seconds – swallowed entirely by the fray just as Arthur had been – and Merlin, Gwaine and Gwen were still a short way away when, very suddenly, the moths all dispersed in a wild flurry.

The three determined rescuers were caught by surprise as the giant bugs scattered in all directions – including theirs – and they had barely two seconds warning before a large number of the blasted insects collided with them. Instantly, Merlin's world shrank into a confused blur of whacking wings, furry bodies, startled shouts and Gwaine's blindly-swinging sword.

It was, perhaps, because there was so much shouting going on that it took Merlin a little while to hear Arthur's hollering.

The onslaught of moths thinned as the dratted creatures continued on by them, flying back to wherever they'd come from and battering the humans as much as possible as they did so, and it was only then that Merlin became aware of the Pendragon-heir's outraged bellowing that was… … growing fainter with every passing moment.

Struggling to regain his bearings as a last wing whacked him in the face, Merlin cast about wildly for the once-Prince and finally spotted him, and he felt anger flush through him at the sight that met him.

Blast it all, Merlin was really, _really_ starting to hate these moths.

The damn things weren't content to wreak general havoc on their previously-peaceful night, shred their previously-neat fields, and swarm their previously-unswarmed Arthur. They weren't even content to just maul the once-Prince a little and then flee before justice could be dispensed upon them.

No. They had to take it a step further.

Merlin stared, slack jawed, for half a moment as his brain processed what he was seeing.

Arthur's right arm was being held firmly to the moth's body by all six of its ridiculously long and furry legs, and the rest of the once-Prince was dangling wildly as he thrashed and writhed in his captor's grasp as the moth flew away, already seven feet high in the air and a hundred or so metres away.

Unbelievable. The damn thing had used the moth-dispersal as a distraction and _it was kidnapping Arthur_.

Before Merlin could even react with the appropriate level of outrage that abduction-by-moth would ordinarily result in, Sirius – who had been left slightly stunned in the aftermath of his moth-pit experience and had apparently only just now regained his bearings – saw the attempted kidnapping happening right in front of him and launched into action immediately.

The great big snarling hound covered the hundred metres in less time than Merlin could even begin to dream at, and the dog launched himself fearlessly off the ground at the kidnapper-moth, snapped fiercely at its fuzz-covered body with his teeth and held on tight.

This _should _have worked rather well.

The moth _should_ have felt the pain of the wolfhound's powerful bite and let go of Arthur, and the once-Prince and the hound should have fallen a short (admittedly, probably painful) distance to the ground which would result in days of moaning and skiving off from the both of them.

But apparently giant moths don't react to wolfhound attacks in a manner that most would expect of them.

Apparently, their method for dealing with such an assault is to hiss angrily, hold on to their kidnapped-human even tighter, and fly _higher_.

Fortunately Sirius seemed to realise that if he let go now he would be faced with a rather painful fall, so he held on to the moth's fuzzy brown body even tighter with his teeth as he and Arthur were carried even further away from home, both of them dangling in a manner that would have been comical had it not been so dangerous.

And just _no,_ damn it.

Honestly; Merlin's previously-pleasant night had already been turned into a ghastly nightmare that he never wanted to experience again, and it was all the fault of these damned insects. On top of everything else the accursed creatures had already done, they were _not_ kidnapping his destiny _and_ his dog all in the one hellish night – not if Merlin had anything to say about it.

There really wasn't any option other than what Merlin did next.

Gwaine and Gwen were both running as fast as they could after the floppily flapping trio, Gwaine with his sword in the air, but what they planned to do next Merlin had no idea. The moth and its victims were already well out of reach and were flying faster than any human could run besides, and it would hardly leave any trail for them to follow so they could track it down once it had disappeared from sight.

Out of options, and very nearly out of time, the warlock felt the magic rushing through him, warming his blood as it went, and he flung his hand out in the direction of his rapidly-disappearing-into-the-distance best friend, his adopted dog and their fiendish kidnapper.

"_Ysgytia 'r gwyfyn*!" _he shouted, and he felt the hot flare of magic behind his eyes as a shockwave pulsed out of his hand and flew with deadly precision at the winged beast.

The moth shrieked (which was interesting, really, because Merlin hadn't realised moths were capable of sound) as the blast hit it, and – as planned – the force was enough that it knocked Sirius loose and forced the beast to let go of Arthur.

Both dog and human yelped as gravity grabbed them and they started to fall, and Merlin honestly couldn't have guessed which yelp came from who, they sounded so similar.

"_Chlustog 'n hwy adfeilia_*!" he shouted quickly, and the falling males suddenly bounced back up, as though they'd landed on a rather large invisible cushion, before they dropped the last metre and a half to the ground with an oomph, Arthur splayed on his back and Sirius flopped over the top of him.

Merlin grinned at a job well done, but only had a moment to revel in his success before all the moths – both the one he had hit and the thirty or so others that had been fleeing – all stopped flying away and instead snapped their heads towards him.

There was an extremely loud silence, and then an angry hissing sound filled the air.

"Uh…" Merlin said, taking a step back and eyeing the moths warily as the hissing intensified and the barbed antennae on the creatures heads unfurled to stand straight and ready.

And then they charged at him.

Earlier, when this whole mess had started, Merlin had been hoping (naively, perhaps) that they'd be able to get out of it with as few casualties as possible. Merlin really wasn't a fan of killing things, and if the moths could just be shooed away from the fields so that they never wished to return, then no one needed to die and everyone could cheerfully get on with their lives.

It was clear now, however – with thirty-odd giant moths making a bee-line for him as each of them prepared to impale him many times over with their spiky antennae – that maybe permanently solving this problem was the only way Merlin was going to get out of this in one piece.

"_Brydia 'r gwyfod*_!" he cried, shouting the first thing that came to mind as the horde swarmed towards him, throwing his hands out to either side and feeling the magic crackle in his palms.

It took a second for the magic to take effect – and what a long, long second it was as the murderous bugs screamed closer and closer – but then there was a whooshing sound, and the moth leading the charge suddenly faltered as its left wing went up in flames.

Now, Merlin didn't know this about moths – he just got lucky, really – but the dust that covers a lepidoptera's wings and body is very flammable. Not a moment passed after the first wing erupted in a whoosh of red and orange fire before it spread to the rest of the creature's body, and the bug flailed wildly for a moment, bumping into three of its fellows, before it exploded in a shower of sparks and rained bits of moth down onto the ground below.

Instantaneously, the three creatures it had bumped into also went up in flames – as did any moth that was hit by exploded-moth-shrapnel – and they too were consumed quickly by the fire before exploding.

The result of this was that a mere four seconds after Merlin cast the spell, all the moths had succeeded in setting each other alight and the sky was empty of over-sized, murderous bugs, and full instead of softly falling chunks of fuzz and wing.

"Ew…" Merlin moaned quietly, spitting moth-shrapnel out of his mouth as he lowered his arms from where they'd been shielding his head from the impromptu fireworks session above. Then he noticed Gwen and Gwaine both staring at him with wide eyes.

"…Ah," he said, only just realising that they had seen everything he had just done. "Uh… I can explain…." He started, but at that moment Arthur caught his eye.

Shirtless, bruised, covered in dirt, and trying not to sneeze moth-dust, the Pendragon heir looked far more intimidating than his description suggests as he shoved Sirius off him and clambered to his feet, glaring furiously at Merlin.

The warlock stood very still as Arthur got to his feet and started marching forwards, anger evident in every pane of his body.

Sirius made to bound forward happily, but Arthur snarled at him to stay put and the dog complied immediately, if unhappily.

"Arthur – " Merlin started, but Arthur cut him off angrily.

"What was that?" the once-Prince demanded, sounding rather similar to an angry lion as he pointed violently behind him at the now moth-free sky.

"Ah…. Magic?" Merlin winced, the statement coming out sounding more like a question.

Arthur looked like he couldn't decide whether to be stunned or murderous.

"You are aware that magic is banned in Camelot, yes?" he demanded, apparently settling for furiously incredulous.

"Um..." Merlin responded, his fingers still tingling even though his eyes were now back to their normal blue. "Then it's a very good thing that we're not in Camelot?"

Gwaine snorted.

"Good call," he said, and grinned unrepentantly when Arthur swung around to throw a glare at him. "What? It's true. We're in Goodwyn's land – magic's not banned here. Frowned upon, perhaps, but not banned. And magic saved your royal behind just now, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"Did you know?" Arthur demanded incredulously, turning away from Merlin entirely as he misinterpreted Gwaine's swift and calm acceptance of what just happened to mean that the dark-haired man was in on the secret.

"Nah," Gwaine said easily, sticking his sword into the dirt so that he could lean on the hilt casually. "Had my suspicions, sure, but nothin' solid. Kind of stands out a bit if you spend a while with our Merlin. You never noticed how often we get lucky when he's around, when by rights we should all be dead at least three times over?"

"You suspected," Arthur bit out, "that Merlin was using magic, and you didn't think to mention it to me?"

"Course not," Gwaine said, utterly unrepentant. "Knew you'd either laugh or be an ass about it, and neither one o' those would have been particularly helpful to anyone."

Arthur gave up on him.

"How long have you been using magic?" he demanded, turning back to Merlin, who shrunk a little in the face of Arthur's anger.

"Well, I was born with it, so… all my life," he said, managing this time to make it sound like a statement.

"_What _made you think that learning _magic_ when you lived in _Camelot_ would be a good idea I have no – wait," Arthur cut himself off abruptly, registering Merlin's words halfway through his rant. "All your life? I don't believe you. No one is born with magic; that's impossible."

"Uh, no," Merlin said, shuffling about a little. "Just rare. Really rare."

Arthur looked like he very much didn't believe that, but let it slide in favour of something more pressing.

"Have you ever used it on me?" the once-Prince demanded, sounding dangerous.

"Um… yes," Merlin said, wincing.

Gwen gasped, sounding horrified, and Arthur's face darkened.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, deceptively calm even as he took a very threatening step forwards.

"Um, well," Merlin said, casting his mind back. "I uh… I tried to heal you when you were shot in the back in the Valley of the Fallen Kings just before Morgana's birthday," he started, ticking the instances off on his fingers as he went. "And when there was that whole business with Vivien – when you were both enchanted – I tried a few spells on you to _un_-enchant you, but none of them worked, and Gwen had to… um…... help. And then with Sophia, when she enchanted you and I had to get you back from the lake to Camelot – well, I mean, you're no lightweight, and brute strength is hardly my forte at the best of times and I _had_ been blasted against a wall not a long time earlier so I wasn't exactly feeling a hundred percent, so I kind of used a spell to make you lighter. And, then… um… Actually, that's it. I think."

There was a long silence.

"That's it?" Arthur asked after a little while, sounding surprised.

Merlin swelled in indignation.

"No that's not _it,"_ he snapped. "That's all the times I've used magic _on_ you, yes, but I've used it _near_ you to _save your life_ I-don't-even-know-how-many times. Keeping you alive is not as easy as you might think! It takes a lot of hard work, I'll have you know!"

Arthur seemed surprised at Merlin's offence.

"But…" he started, sounding honestly confused. "I mean, well, you're not being a very good sorcerer, are you? Aren't sorcerers supposed to try to kill me? Not save me?"

Merlin glared and crossed his arms, jutting his chin out defiantly.

"Just because you never _see_ bears in the woods doesn't mean they're not there," he said cryptically, and Arthur looked a little bit bewildered.

"Um… what?" the once-prince asked, and Merlin huffed.

"Just because the only sorcerers you ever encounter are trying to kill you doesn't mean that _all_ sorcerers are like that," he clarified, sounding waspish. "The others just stay out of your way."

"Oh," said Arthur and then fell silent, apparently pondering this notion.

There was a long silence as everyone waited to see what the once-prince would do next; Gwaine, despite looking mostly at ease, was very clearly ready to leap to Merlin's defence if necessary; Gwen was looking with wide eyes between the two men; Merlin was watching Arthur with an outward calm, but a well-hidden nervousness; and Sirius was still lying in the dirt where Arthur had told him to stay, his tail making a dent in the dirt with its continued wagging.

Finally, Arthur took a deep breath and everyone tensed a little bit in anticipation.

Would he still be angry? Would he hold to his father's beliefs and banish Merlin? Or worse, attack him? Or would he accept everything the warlock had done for him and thank him, and forever look upon magic through new eyes.

Of course, being Arthur, he decided to defy predictability and do none of those things.

"Well then, Mister Magic," he said, gesturing around at the destroyed fields that had been churned up by the moths in their potato-hunting. "Since you're so amazingly talented, you can fix all this. _I'm_ going back to bed."

And he turned on his heel and marched back into the house, not glancing once over his shoulder at his housemates, who stared after him with various degrees of astonished befuddlement, still standing in the middle of a churned up field in their nightclothes in the middle of the night.

...

**AN: Mwahaha – giant moths. Those fiendish critters. Also, a bit of shirtless Arthur and Gwaine for you all. Muddy-shirtless-Arthur, no less, and shirtless-sword-wielding-Gwaine. **

**I know I swooned. **

***Translations: Ysgytia 'r gwyfyn = shock the moth / **_**chlustog 'n hwy adfeilia**_** = cushion their fall /** _**brydia 'r gwyfod**_** = burn the moth. Also, ****lepidoptera = scientific name for moths. I googled. **

_**Up next (because it's probably time for some Arwen): "It really caused quite a stir when people realised that – not only was Gwen living in a house with three other men – she was neither related nor married to any of them. Of course, Gwen's never been one to care what other people think of her. Really." **_

**I will get the next chapter up as soon as I possibly can, but I can't promise that it will be within the next week – possibly not even the next fortnight. I'll get it done as soon as I possibly can though. Also, those of you reading Give You the Sun, the next chapter **_**is**_** coming – again, I'll get that up asap. I am so sorry for the delay. **


	6. The Proposal

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. **_

_**AN: Ok, who else is totally bursting out of their seats with excitement for EPISODE ONE OF SEASON FOUR OF MERLIN? I've barely been able to think of anything else. Because I'm in Australia and we're not gonna get it here for at least a month, I spent two hours this morning trawling the internet looking for it online. I hit an INCREDIBLE amount of dead ends, but I ended up finding it at **__**http:/ eztvstream. com/ merlin- 2008/ merlin- 2008- season- 4- episode- 1- the- revival- of- the- witch- part- 1- of- 2**__**. If you are having difficulty finding it, remove all the spaces and go there. **_

_**And now, some promised Arwen.**_

_**Chapter Summary: **__**It really caused quite a stir when people realised that – not only was Gwen living in a house with three other men – she was neither related nor married to any of them. Of course, Gwen's never been one to care what other people think of her. Really.**_

**...**

**The Proposal**

**...**

Gwen, having grown up in Camelot surrounded constantly by women of varying ages and statuses, was well familiar with hearing and passing on gossip, but had never before found herself to be the _focus_ of it.

As the daughter of a maid and a blacksmith with the most gossip-worthy thing ever to have happened to her being her appointment as Morgana's maid, Gwen had never really had any experience with being the topic of stranger's conversations.

The farm that she, Arthur, Merlin and Gwaine (and Sirius, of course) ran was on the outskirts of a small village in Goodwyn's kingdom. The village itself was fairly self sufficient, trading mostly amongst themselves and only occasionally needing to purchase supplies from outside their small community, so Gwen and the others sold the majority of their crop at the market in a larger town an hour's ride away.

All of the people in the local village knew them but most of the faces in the town were unfamiliar, except for a small number of men that Arthur and Merlin had befriended early on and a gaggle of women that Gwen had become rather fond of since meeting them on her first visit to the market.

One day, in the marketplace a few weeks after the ordeal with the giant moths, Gwen was buying some apples from the local merchant when some voices behind her caught her attention.

"Wait – none of them?" a woman that Gwen didn't know was saying, sounding scandalised. "I thought they were her brothers!"

"Her brothers?" a second woman repeated, scoffing. "Yes, because they all look _so _alike..."

"Oh, hush, I don't know – they might have been cousins, or something. But she's related to none of them?"

"None," the second woman confirmed, and there was a gasp of rather shocked outrage.

It was not uncommon to overhear people swapping gossip in the streets, and so people mostly paid little attention to it. Gwen never cared much for gossip either and couldn't have cared much less about the woman who was apparently not living with her brothers, but as the once-maid turned to leave the fruit merchant, she caught sight of the chatting women.

Upon seeing her turn and look at them, the two women – both peasants and slightly older than Gwen – went silent rather quickly and looked away determinedly.

Unfazed and knowing when she wasn't wanted, Gwen shrugged to herself and went on her way, basket of freshly purchased fruit under one arm.

The next day she was on her way back from the tannery (all three of the men were in need of new boots, their current ones being close to entirely worn out from hard, constant labour in their fields) when she spotted a cluster of women that she vaguely recognised further ahead on the side of the path all pressed close and talking in loud whispers.

"No – no, she's not married," a dark-haired woman (the wife of the butcher, Gwen realised) was assuring the others, all of whom looked around at each other with scandalised expressions and quiet gasps of shock.

"And how many of them are there?" another asked, leaning in closer eagerly and completely oblivious to Gwen's approach as the dark-skinned girl slowed her walk to better hear what the women were saying, wondering vaguely if these women were talking about the same person as yesterday.

If they were, whoever this woman was she was causing quite a stir.

"Three," the butcher's wife answered, and clearly she was the authority on the matter, judging by the confidence in her voice and the superior look she gave the others. "Though there were only two to start with – I think she takes in strays."

"But how can she live like that?" a young blonde woman (who Gwen recognised to be the baker's daughter) asked. "I mean – where's her father? Doesn't he care that his daughter is living like that? _My_ father – oh, can you imagine how he would react if _I _did something like that?"

"Well, we don't know where her father is, do we?" a new woman said – Gwen thought she might recognise her as the innkeeper's niece. "Could be dead for all we know."

Gwen – even though she was just walking by, mostly minding her own business – was starting to feel very uncomfortable listening in to their conversation like this, and she picked up her pace, still unnoticed by the group as she passed them by and their voices started to fade.

"Yes, you're right," someone said from behind her. "We really don't know anything about them except that the three of them showed up out of the blue and bought that old farm."

Gwen heard someone reply, but she had turned around the corner and was unable to hear them properly, and any way, she was too busy ignoring the distant voice in her head that whispered who they might have been talking about.

The next time, however, it was harder to ignore.

It was nearly a week later and Gwen hadn't heard a single mention of mysterious women being or not being married to nameless men who may or may not be cousins, and so when she traded her basket of freshly dug potatoes with the vegetable merchant for a small bag of silver and turned around to see the group of women that she knew on the other side of the market, she headed over to them without a thought, smiling cheerfully.

"But you've heard what everyone's been saying," Callie, the cobbler's daughter was saying earnestly. "I mean, it's true that she can't be in any way related to them – they couldn't look any _less_ alike – and I don't recall ever having seen a ring..."

"Good morning," Gwen greeted cheerfully, drawing to a halt beside them.

None of the women had seen her coming, engrossed in their gossip as they were, but they all startled at her sudden appearance and looked rather flustered.

"Oh, Gwen!" the seamstress' daughter Daniale said, laughing nervously and pressing her hand over her heart. "We didn't see you coming! How... uh... how are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, and yourselves?" Gwen returned pleasantly, and the women all exchanged glances.

"We've heard all those horrible things that have been going around," Alice – the brewmaker's wife – said, not answering Gwen's question and adopting a sympathetic expression. "It must be terribly hard for you."

Gwen paused, her brow flickering in confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked, uncertain.

"Well, all the rumours of course!" Callie replied, putting her hand on Gwen's arm. "You know, none of us believed any of them for a second, of course. Honestly, the _things _people _say!"_ She gave a rather nervous sounding laugh.

"The rumours?" Gwen asked, certain that she didn't want to know but somehow finding herself asking anyway.

The women all looked rather taken aback at her question.

"Yes, darling," Callie, the apparent spokesperson, said hesitantly. "Everyone... Everyone's been saying that you ran away from home to live out of wedlock with three men, far beyond the reach of your father's disapproval. Foolish, I know, utterly foolish, but you know what those gossipers are like. They take the smallest bit of fact and they twist it into birds nest."

Gwen was astonished.

"People... people are saying that about me?" Gwen asked blankly. "What – but... my father's dead!"

"Oh, darling, we're terribly sorry to hear that," Callie soothed, taking Gwen's hand. "And you don't need to explain yourself to us – we know none of the rumours hold any kind of credibility. How are you related to – is it Arten?"

"Arthur..." Gwen corrected dazedly. "No – we're not related. None of us are related."

The women all sucked in shocked gasps and Callie dropped Gwen's hand (her right hand, incidentally, and the one that she would have had a ring on were there a ring to be worn).

"So you mean it's true?" Sophie, the miller's daughter, asked in a hushed tone, speaking for the first time. "Everything that everyone's been saying?"

"What? No, of course not!" Gwen said, recovering a little from her shock.

"So then you're married to one of them?" Daniale pressed, glancing down at her ring-less hand.

"No – well, not yet at least. But, Arthur and I –"

"You're betrothed?" Callie interrupted, and all the warmth and sympathy was gone from her voice leaving nothing but raw curiosity and eagerness.

"No, not – well, not officially, at least, but we will – "

"So you're married to none of them," Sophie cut in, "and you're related to none of them, but you _are_ living with them, is that correct?"

"I – well, yes, but – "

"I can't believe it," Daniale said, turning to the other two and speaking in hushed tones of astonishment. "I thought that there might have been _some_ grain of truth to the rumours, but it's _all_ true?"

"I know!" Callie returned, turning away from Gwen to face the other two properly. "I mean, you hear all kinds of wild stories..."

It was clear to Gwen as the three of them closed ranks with her on the outside that they had gotten all that they wanted from her and that there was no point in hanging around.

Pressing her teeth together and blinking fiercely, Gwen repositioned her basket in her hands and set off, pretending that she couldn't feel the weight of the women's stares on her back as she departed.

...

It was a few hours later that the men came tramping into the house, Sirius bouncing along beside them as usual, to find Gwen stirring a pot of some kind of delicious smelling something over the fire.

"Ah, there you are," she said, half turning towards them and sounding a little odd. "Dinner's nearly done – if you go and clean up it will be ready when you come down."

Gwaine, Merlin and Arthur glanced at each other.

"Guinevere?" Arthur asked, stepping forward a little. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Gwen replied, resolutely not looking at them and sounding anything but fine. "Now go and wash up."

Arthur stepped further forward and caught her arm, gently turning her towards him.

"Guinevere," he said in a tone of gentle reprimand when she pulled away from him, and apparently that was enough.

Gwaine jumped and Merlin stepped forward in concern when Gwen suddenly let out a strangled sounding sob and spun to bury her face in Arthur's chest, and the once-prince wrapped his arms around her instantly despite being startled by her sudden movement.

Arthur sent Merlin a strong look over the top of Gwen's head and the warlock, picking up the hint easily, nodded and swiftly left the room, pulling Gwaine along with him and signalling to Sirius to follow.

With just the two of them left in the kitchen, it was only a short while before Gwen calmed down enough to pull away from Arthur, embarrassed at the wet patch she'd made on his shirt, and not much longer for her to explain what had upset her.

"So, in summary," Arthur said, squeezing Gwen's hand gently as they sat together at the table, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, "you're upset because all the women in the town are gossiping about you and making up all kinds of rumours?"

Gwen sniffed. "It sounds so silly when you say it like that," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"No, I disagree," Arthur said, frowning a little. "I've always known what it's like to be talked about by people you don't even know, but some days it's harder than others. And it must be difficult for you, when you've never had to deal with it before."

Gwen sniffed again.

"It just..." she said, and then started again. "It just makes me feel so _lonely_. We don't know anyone here except each other, not really. I thought I knew Callie and Daniale and Sophie, but clearly not. And... it just... . It makes me miss home; miss Camelot. I _knew_ everyone there, and no one gossiped about me behind my back, and no one knew about us. Wait – that came out badly. I mean, I wouldn't change this for the world – you and me being able to be... to be___us_, together – but sometimes, I miss the anonymity that we had in Camelot. No one there cared if we were related or engaged or married. That's all anyone here cares about and I... oh, I don't know."

She fell silent and tucked her head in to the crook between Arthur's neck and shoulder, and he tightened his arm around her comfortingly.

"Hm," he said, frowning thoughtfully and watching the fire over the top of her head. "Well, I can't do anything about those women in town and what they care about, but I don't suppose it would make you feel any better if I gave you this?"

And he produced from his pocket a delicate silver ring with a dark red stone set in the centre.

Gwen pulled away from him so that she could stare at it, eyes huge, in blank astonishment.

"I was going to do it properly – you know – take you out for a ride and have lunch by a river and all," Arthur said casually, glancing down at the ring (and it was only because Gwen knew him so well that she was able to pick his extreme but well-hidden nervousness that was being covered by layers of charm and casualness). "Merlin helped me plan it all. Gwaine tried to help, but I told him to go away after he suggested that you might like a ring with a chunk of dried potato as the stone, 'seeing as how we're farmers now.' But... I don't know – it feels... right. To do it now, I mean. If I'd done it later – done it how I was planning to – you might have thought that it was only because of what everyone was saying. And I don't want you to think that's why I'm doing this."

"Are you..." Gwen said after a long moment of stunned silence. "Are you proposing to me?"

Arthur grinned at her, a shy little grin that she only ever saw when he was nervous about her reaction, and disentangled himself from her to kneel in front of her.

"Guinevere," he said, his eyes sparkling happily. "Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Gwen's face split into a grin and she choked out another sob, and flung herself down to the floor to wrap her arms around Arthur's neck.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, yes, yes."

She sensed the smile that spread across his features and he brought both arms up to wrap around her and pull her close, and Gwen thought briefly that she'd never felt such happiness in her life.

There was an eruption of cheering and clapping from the doorway, and the newly-engaged pair broke apart to look over.

"I thought I told you to give us some privacy," Arthur said, glaring with no real heat at Merlin and Gwaine, both of whom were cheering in the doorway looking absolutely delighted.

"Oh, is that what you meant?" Merlin grinned, utterly unrepentant. "I thought you just meant 'leave the room.' Which we did. We were just outside the door."

Arthur's glare intensified in strength and Gwen rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Give her a kiss, Arthur, go on," Gwaine said, grinning hugely. "She just said yes!"

Arthur's face split into a delighted smile despite his best efforts to keep glaring at the two in the doorway, and he turned back to her, positively radiating happiness.

"Yes she did," he said, and leant in to kiss his future wife.

...

AN: Ok, how amazing was 4x01? All I can say is THANK GOODNESS for the internet, because without it I would still be living a Season-Four-less existence. I can't wait for the next episode!

_**Next up: "Merlin, I swear to you, if you mess this up, I will make your life hell for all eternity."**_

"_**Come off it Arthur," Merlin scoffed. "You're getting **__**married**__**. You're going to be far too cheerful to bother making my life hell."**_


	7. The Wedding

**AN: To quote Cornelius Sigan: "I am returned!" _Major_ apologies for the long silence, everyone – a combination of Real Life, writers block and – the biggest issue – RSI in BOTH hands kind of put _FFFP_ on the back-burner for a while. Even as I type this I have these annoyingly cumbersome pressure bandages on my hands and wrists. **

**This chapter is for three people: _Imagined__Artist_ who asked ages ago if I was going to do the wedding, and _Kitty__O_ and _Eavis_ who both gave me a gentle-yet-effective kick in the butt to get this posted. Kitty, I hope this cheers you up sufficiently. **

**In other news: I am, distressingly, very behind on Merlin. Due to internet complications, I have not yet seen either 4x10 OR 4x11, so _please_ make no mention of them! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. Though, I'd LOVE to own Gwen's dress. …Guess I should get the guy though, before I head out and get the dress. **

**ChapterSummary: "Arthur," Merlin said exasperatedly. "You're getting _married._ You're going to be far too cheerful to bother making my life hell."**

**...**

**The Wedding**

**...**

Merlin had never seen Arthur looking so nervous in all the time he'd known him (and Merlin had seen Arthur in a lot of situations where extreme nervousness would be perfectly acceptable).

The blonde-haired farmer was nervously walking to the far end of his room, running his hands through his hair, pacing back to Merlin's amused side, messing his hair a second time, then turning around and doing the whole thing all over again.

"I really think you're stressing over nothing," Merlin said soothingly, valiantly suppressing a chuckle. "I mean – it's Gwen! What is there to be worried about?"

"That's exactly _it,_ _Mer_lin!" Arthur said crossly, glaring over his shoulder as he headed back to the far side of his room. "It's _Guinevere_! She's… she's so… I mean – and I'm just… well, I'm just me! I'm a _farmer,_ for heavens sakes! And I… I smell when I come in from the fields, and I remember her telling me I snore like a pig, and I have _no_ idea what to do with a chicken in between killing it and eating it, not to mention I remember Morgana telling me that all women dream of their wedding as little girls – what if it's not what she pictured? What if she doesn't like it? What if – "

"_Arthur_," Merlin interrupted, catching the older man's shoulders and forcing him to stay still. "Stop. You're being ridiculous. Firstly, yes, it's Gwen. Which means that she could probably get married in rags and still be happy so long as its _you_ she's marrying. Secondly, she _knows_you're a farmer – you became a farmer _for_her, if you recall, and that's not going to do anything other than win you more points with her. With regards to the smell: she's seen your laundry, and as frightening as it is it hasn't managed to scare her off just yet. And she's known for years that you snore and that you're utterly useless in the kitchen, and it's very clear that she doesn't care in the slightest considering she's still going ahead with all this.

"And frankly, I don't think you have anything to worry about regarding the wedding being less than she imagined. You'll recall that Gwaine was placed in charge of an army of women to get the decorations and food done, so I really think it's going to be _more_ than she ever dreamed of. And I know that putting Gwaine in charge of all that made you a little nervous, but you can't deny that the man has been to enough parties to know what makes a good one, so he knows what he's doing. So calm down. It's all going to be fine."

There was a brief silence where Merlin stared seriously at Arthur and Arthur looked unconvinced, and then the groom narrowed his eyes at Merlin.

"Are you being wise again?" he asked suspiciously.

Merlin grinned. "Does it suit me?"

Arthur sniffed dismissively. "Only occasionally."

Merlin chuckled under his breath and then propelled Arthur towards the changing partition before turning around and fetching the brand new tunic from the wardrobe.

"She really did a great job of this," Merlin said lightly, handing the tunic to Arthur as the once-prince disappeared behind the wooden panels to get changed.

The fabric was a deep, Pendragon red, and the sleeve-ends and collar had been detailed with a bright gold thread in swirling, dancing patterns. It fitted him perfectly, he found, pulling it over his head and settling it into place; but then, Gwen was a brilliant seamstress.

Arthur had protested the concept of Gwen making all the clothes for the wedding herself – her dress and his outfit included – but his bride-to-be had calmly pointed out that she was the only one who knew exactly what she wanted, so how could she expect any one else to make the clothes correctly?

He found he wasn't able to argue with that.

She had travelled to get the fabric a week after Arthur proposed to her. The town near them (the one with the gossiping women) didn't have any materials that she liked, so Gwaine was assigned as her personal body guard for the day (because a woman travelling alone is never a good idea and Arthur couldn't go because he wasn't allowed to see the dress – "Even when it's only bits of fabric," Gwen had stressed) and they'd set off to Talinshire, where a renowned fabric-maker sold his wares.

The trip had taken the whole day, and they'd returned an hour after dark just in time for Merlin to serve them up some of the stew he'd made (not that Arthur would ever say this out loud, but Merlin was a very good cook), and both of them had been frustratingly quiet on the topic of their purchases.

Arthur hadn't pressed for details – he knew more than to try and get around Gwen's wish for the dress to be a total and complete surprise – but that didn't stop Merlin from trying to wheedle any information he could from Gwaine at every available opportunity.

Every time the warlock thought Arthur was out of hearing he would start grilling the dark-haired man on what kinds of fabrics she'd bought and did he know what she was planning and what-about-the-veil-come-on-you-have-to-tell-me-something-please, but Gwaine was cheerfully closed mouthed on the entire subject, which frustrated Merlin to no end.

Honestly, Arthur thought with a chuckle, fastening his trousers and securing his sword-belt around his waist. Merlin was more curious than _he_was to see the product of all this secrecy.

Gwen worked on the clothes during the day, presumably, because she never worked on them in the evenings and everything was always all neatly packed away when the men came inside at the end of the day. Arthur's outfit had shown up a week before the wedding, laid out smoothly across his bed when he came in one night, and it had been living safely in his wardrobe since then in readiness for the big day.

"And your cloak," Merlin said, his arm appearing around the side of the partition and the garment in question in his hand.

Arthur took it with a word of thanks and fastened it around his shoulders, before taking a settling breath and stepping out, shuffling a little self-consciously.

"So... how do I look?" he asked, when Merlin said nothing.

Merlin smiled softly, looking proud and pleased and joyful.

"Like a Prince," he said simply, and Arthur couldn't help the quiet smile that lifted the corners of his mouth at that.

"Oi!" someone shouted suddenly from the other side of the closed door. "You comin' out here or what? Your bride's gonna get cold feet if you make her wait any longer!"

"I'm coming, Gwaine," Arthur called, sighing long sufferingly at the man's antics, and then he took a deep breath and turned towards the door.

"You ready?" Merlin asked, standing beside him.

Arthur straightened slightly, forcing his nervousness down. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing at all.

"Yes," he said, pleased when his voice came out firm.

"Just think," Merlin said, in what Arthur supposed was supposed to be an encouraging tone. "In just one hour, you're going to be married to the woman of your dreams."

There was a brief pause.

"That's really just making me more nervous, Merlin," Arthur said flatly, not looking away from the door.

Merlin blinked.

"Would you like me to be quiet?"

He'd barely even finished asking the question before Arthur said, "Yes please," rather quickly.

...

Gwaine really had done an utterly splendid job organising the setup, Arthur couldn't help but think.

White and green were the dominant colours, with white flowers trailing across every surface available. Bright green wreathes hung at the ends of the tables that later would be the location for the celebratory feast, the white flowers standing out brightly amongst the leaves.

The aisle was lined by twisting lengths of ivy, and white petals were scattered across the grass that Guinevere would soon be walking across. The archway that Merlin had created with a flash of golden eyes and some complicated words was also covered in ivy, white lilies and other flowers twisted in with the leaves.

Gwaine had even given Sirius a bath the day before (though Merlin was suspiciously of the opinion that Gwaine ended up wetter than the dog), and the wolfhound was sitting proudly at the left of the arch, his grey fur shiny.

"You wait til we get to the food," Gwaine grinned when Merlin commented on how good a job he and his army of women had done. "You'll wish your stomach was three times as large as it is."

They would need lots of food, too. Most of the people from the nearby village had come to see the wedding, and the men who Arthur and Merlin had befriended from the town brought their wives and children along as well, so there were a fair few people milling about with quiet excitement as they waited for the ceremony to start.

There were a couple of guests though, who were of special importance.

Gaius and Elyan had arrived together three days prior to the wedding, and Merlin had given up his room to his mentor for the duration of his stay and gone to kip on a bedroll on the floor in Gwaine's room, as had Elyan.

Gwaine and Elyan hadn't met before, but they hit it off rather quickly and – with six of them now in the house – dinner time became a rather noisy affair.

Everything was going well in Camelot, Gaius assured Arthur and Merlin, and though the King hadn't lessoned the search for his wayward son in the slightest , it was Camelot that he was searching from edge to edge, not neighbouring kingdoms, so for the foreseeable future, their secret farm was safe from discovery.

After all – it's not as though the King could just send a battalion of men into someone else's land, not if he wanted to keep things peaceful.

Morgana had been being her usual shifty self, the physician told Merlin later, once well away from any prying ears. She had something planned, of that the old man was certain, but so far he hadn't been able to pin anything on her, and she hadn't done anything outwardly devious, so Gaius was content enough to leave Camelot to her own devices for a few weeks while he "dealt with a plague in some of the western-most villages."

Sadly, Elyan and Gaius were the only people from their old lives who were able to come and celebrate Arthur and Gwen's union.

Arthur had wanted Leon there, his most trusted knight, but the man's loyalty was first to Uther, and it was decided that it wasn't fair to put him in such a position of compromise.

No one knew how to get in contact with Lancelot, and both Arthur and Merlin secretly thought that was a good thing. The man may have been honourable enough to remove himself from the equation when he realised what there was between Arthur and Gwen, but there was just something cruel about inviting a man to the wedding of the woman he'd let go.

There were other people they might have invited – Mary, one of the kitchen maids, had been a close friend of Gwen's, and Arthur was rather fond of Geoffrey of Monmouth despite the man's stuffy personality, but with the whole of Camelot on the lookout for their eloped Prince, it was just too risky to invite anyone except those who were trusted implicitly.

Down at the end of the aisle, the musicians suddenly straightened and lifted their instruments; a moment later, a soft melody started drifting through the air.

Arthur swallowed nervously. Beside him, Merlin straightened and raised his hand in preparation, and the once-Prince shot him a Look.

"Merlin, I swear to you, if you mess this up, I will make your life hell for all eternity," the Groom threatened, momentarily distracted from his nerves.

"Come off it Arthur," Merlin scoffed. "You're getting _married_. You're going to be far too cheerful to bother making my life hell."

Arthur had a response to that – really, he did – but then he caught a flash of movement just beyond the little grove of trees leading to the aisle, and he lost his train of thought completely.

Elyan came into sight first, dressed in the best clothes he owned and positively _beaming,_and then Gwen appeared, holding on to her brother's arm lightly as he guided her down the aisle, the train of her dress trailing gently behind her.

It would probably be best to describe the dress from Gwen's perspective, because upon laying eyes on her Arthur was struck speechless, and everyone else in attendance was not much better off.

It had taken her four weeks to make, and even when it was done she kept tweaking it and adjusting it until finally she had to tell herself firmly that it was _done,_ and that she should _leave__it__alone._She had folded it gently and wrapped it safely in a swath of cloth to protect it both from prying eyes and dust, and put it in her wardrobe where it was safely out of reach of her needle.

It was white, naturally, and the fabric was light and flowing. It belled out from her waist to swish gracefully around her slipper-clad-feet and the ivory-coloured belt matched the embroidery on the bodice and the hems of both the skirt and the long, draping sleeves.

Some of the young girls from the local village had banded together to make Gwen a delicate wreath of flowers and leaves that matched the white and green of the decorations, and it sat nestled in her hair like a crown, her dark curls tumbling loosely down her back.

Arthur had never seen anyone who looked so much like a Queen, and for a moment he was a Prince again, standing in the Great Hall with his cape and his crown, about to make the most beautiful woman in all the land his Princess. Then Merlin snorted and elbowed him in the side and whispered to the blonde to shut his gaping jaw, and Camelot disappeared.

Merlin, still chuckling to himself at Arthur's awed expression, subtly raised his hand a little and glanced down as his eyes flashed golden. The lids on the two containers at the far end of the aisle slid silently away, and the white butterflies that had been trapped in the tubs took flight immediately and (thanks to a second quick spell by Merlin) flew straight towards Gwen, fluttering around her and her brother and making it look like the two of them were walking through a light snow-fall of flowers.

Elyan was beaming, his teeth white against the darkness of his skin, and Gwen looked… Gwen looked positively radiant. She was smiling softly as she walked, but the joy was practically pouring from her skin in visible waves as she walked closer to the arch where Arthur waited for her, her eyes locked unwaveringly on his.

The spell drawing the butterflies to Gwen wore off quickly, and there were fewer and fewer of them fluttering around her as she grew closer. Most flew off, but some settled on the bunch of flowers she held in her hands and others settled in her hair, nestled amongst the dark curls and woven wreath of flowers.

A glance to Merlin's left confirmed for the warlock that Arthur still looked just as awestruck as he had when Gwen had first come in to sight, and it was clear that any lingering doubts or nervousness had been completely banished by the arrival of his bride.

With Arthur too, the happiness radiating from him was so tangible that Merlin almost imagined he could see it glowing in the late-morning sun.

Arthur's utter joy was contagious, and Merlin knew without having to check that he himself was beaming so brightly that he wouldn't be surprised if his cheeks were sore for weeks.

It seemed like it took both forever and yet no time at all before Gwen and Elyan reached the arch, and then Elyan kissed his sister's cheek and hugged her, and moved to sit in the front-most row as Guinevere took Arthur's hand and stepped up in front of the arch, and Gaius moved forward to begin the ceremony.

Gaius spoke well in Geoffrey's place, the age-old ceremonial words both loud and clear enough that even the people in the back-most row were able to hear him clearly. The old man was smiling hugely with joy as he tied Guinevere and Arthur's hands together with gold ribbon intertwined with long green grasses and tiny white flowers, and then Merlin stepped forward and presented a pair of rings, both gold and carved with patterns that Merlin had carefully inscribed into the metal late the evening before.

The bride and groom slid the rings on to the other's hands, beaming at each other, and then – at Gaius' final words – Arthur leant in and gave his wife the first kiss of their married life.

...

One feast, lots of dancing and even more alcohol later, Arthur and Gwen had pulled away from the celebrations for a few moments of quietness, and were standing in the shadows of their house watching as their guests continued to laugh and dance and drink merrily. They were completely out of sight of the revellers, shadowed as they were by the house.

"So, was it as bad as you were anticipating?" Gwen asked, successfully hiding her laughter.

She sensed Arthur's frown as her husband – her_husband!__ – _looked down at her from where she was wrapped in his arms.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, completely confused.

She turned away from the celebrations to hide her amused smile in his shoulder.

"Merlin tells me you were a little nervous before the ceremony," she said, biting her lip to keep from chuckling.

"Oh did he?" Arthur said, in that dangerous tone that he seemed to reserve especially for Merlin, and a short giggle escaped Gwen before she could stop it.

"Mmhm," she said, nodding. "_Just__shy__of__panicking_, I believe was the exact description."

"I see," Arthur near-growled. "I don't suppose you've seen him around recently, have you?"

Gwen laughed, pulling back to look at him.

"You want me to tell you where he is so that you can go and string him up with the ham?" she asked, and chuckled. "Sorry, you're on your own."

"Ah, now there you're wrong," Arthur said, and Gwen heard the change in his voice and quirked a curious look at him, and he smiled down at her happily. "You and I are married now," he reminded her. "From now on, we're together in everything."

Gwen smiled, standing up on her toes so that she could kiss him softly.

"I guess you're right," she smiled, dropping back down to her normal height. "So I guess I should probably help you out and tell you that Merlin's on his way over here right now."

Arthur looked surprised for half a second, then looked up to see what Guinevere had already spotted; the warlock in question was indeed on his way over to them, walking just ahead of Gwaine, Guias and Elyan.

"There you are," Merlin grinned, once he was in hearing distance. "I've been looking for you two all over. This is the first chance we've had to talk to you since the ceremony."

"We just wanted a bit of a breather," Gwen smiled, turning around in Arthur's embrace and glancing over her shoulder at the still-celebrating guests. "It's a little loud over there."

Merlin chuckled.

"Less loud since Gwaine got tired of singing," he grinned, and the rouguish man by his side scowled a little.

"I'll have you know," Gwaine said in a slightly slurred voice, "that I am a fantastic singer."

Merlin rolled his eyes fondly and then turned his attention back to the bride and groom in front of him, who were watching the exchange with amusement.

"Anyway," the warlock said, growing serious. "We wanted to give you something."

Arthur and Gwen glanced at each other as Merlin grew suddenly serious, and then both of them blinked in surprise as Merlin – followed immediately by Gaius, Elyan and (a little unsteadily) Gwaine – dropped one knee to the ground and bowed his head.

"Merlin – what...?" Gwen started to ask, and Merlin glanced up.

"I know we're not in Camelot," the warlock said, sending her a soft smile. "And so Arthur technically isn't a Prince and you're technically not his Princess but, well... we'll be going back one day, and then you will be. Our Princess, I mean. And one day, our Queen. And I – we – just wanted to let you know that, as much as our loyalty is to Arthur, now it is to you as well, My Lady. So, to you both – the future King and Queen of Camelot, I pledge my allegiance, for as long as I shall live."

The last line was echoed immediately by Elyan, Gaius and Gwaine, and Guinevere gaped at all of them, speechless. Arthur, being more used to Merlin's occasional seriousness and extraordinary loyalty than Gwen was, was slightly less surprised but still caught off guard by the unexpected show of loyalty and allegiance.

There was a short silence, and then Gwen disentangled herself from Arthur's embrace and stepped forward.

"Stand up, all of you, please," she said, sounding rather dazed.

"Thank you," Gwen said faintly, once everyone was on their feet once again. "I... I wasn't expecting that – from any of you. I... I don't really know what to say, so, um, I guess, thank you..."

She trailed off, still looking surprised and shocked by what had just happened, and Merlin grinned and stepped forwards.

"You're welcome," he said simply, and hugged her swiftly. "And congratulations."

He pulled back and Elyan stepped forwards, embracing his sister and whispering his congratulations.

Wrongly thinking that this was only Gwen's moment, Arthur was caught entirely by surprise as first Guias, followed swiftly by Elyan and then Gwaine, all darted in and hugged him quickly.

By the time Merlin stepped forwards, Arthur had found his wits and stepped back sharply as Gwaine and Gaius moved to congratulate Gwen.

"I'm not going to hug you Merlin," he said in a warning voice, and Merlin rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"You just got married and I just pledged allegiance to you and your wife. If doesn't warrant a hug then I don't know what does," he said, and moved forwards again.

"You would hug your future King without his permission?" Arthur demanded, stepping out of reach again.

"If said future King is being a prat about it, yes," Merlin said, and darted forwards again with surprising swiftness.

Arthur yelped in a rather undignified manner as Merlin managed to catch him and the lanky boy wrapped his arms around the once-prince, holding on doggedly for a few (very long) seconds while Arthur struggled to free himself.

"I don't think he's going to let go until you've hugged him," Gwen said, her voice quavering with amusement as Arthur failed to get free.

He struggled for a few seconds longer, but Merlin was surprisingly difficult to dislodge and Arthur groaned heartily with embarrassed frustration as he realised the truth of Gwen's words.

Stiffly, and looking like he would rather be doing _anything_ but this, Arthur awkwardly returned Merlin's embrace for a whole two seconds.

"There," he said, pulling away roughly, and this time Merlin let him.

"There," the warlock echoed, grinning smugly. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Merlin?" Arthur said, straightening his clothes and jutting his jaw out and ignoring everyone as best as he could while at the same time sending a glare at Merlin that would melt a lesser man.

"Yes?" Merlin asked sweetly.

"Never do that again."

Merlin laughed cheerfully.

"Oh, I won't make any promises, Sire."

...

**AN: WOW that was a long one! Hope it made up for the wait! Please review. :) **

_**Reminder: I HAVE NOT SEEN 4X10 OR 4X11, so please, PLEASE don't mention any spoilers! **_

**Bundi**

_**Next up: **__**"You've never been...?" Merlin repeated, staring at Arthur, aghast. The warlock shook himself slightly and put his foot down. "Right – that does it. We're all taking tomorrow off. We're going raspberry picking."**_


End file.
